


this is my fight song

by bowlingfornerds



Series: tumblr prompts [13]
Category: The 100
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Hunting trip, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt on tumblr from i-mthebadguy: You're in a fighting mood? perfect, Murphy loves fighting moods. "Bellamy has noticed a decrease in people picking fights with him in camp, yet he soon notices that Murphy has gotten into more fights. Or an au where Murphy is quietly guarding Bellamy and he just now realizes this." [touches arm] please</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is my fight song

They’ve been on the ground for a week and a half. So far, not many things have gone to plan. They ran out of food pretty quickly, but when Jasper got speared (oh yeah, there are  _people_  on the ground), Bellamy managed to get a big cat. That only fed the camp for a little while, though. Then Charlotte tried to kill Wells, and she was strung up in a tree for a night. Bellamy got that she was twelve, but they were on the ground now – they couldn’t go picking favourites. They all bloody well knew that if it was someone they didn’t like, who had been blamed for the attempted murder of Wells, they would have been killed for it. But he didn’t like to think about that.

Mount Weather was still a long way off, and the camp was generally trying to stay to itself; the walls were almost built and they went out hunting twice a day. The grounders weren’t attacking, but they weren’t going unnoticed either. Bellamy lead most hunts and watched them run through the trees, or stand for a tense moment, staring, before disappearing. 

But, in the week and a half they’d been on the ground, people had, while agreed that Bellamy was their defacto leader – alongside Clarke, who’d weaselled herself into the position by actually caring whether they lived or died – been generally pretty violent with the oldest of the group.

It had started off with Clarke’s confrontation in the drop ship, before he opened the door. Then it went to Mbege – who had a mouth on him the size of the Ark – before Wells joined in, a couple of the delinquents rallying behind the upper class, Finn and, since she landed on Earth, Finn’s girlfriend, Raven.

The only one he was even marginally worried about was the latter of the group. Raven Reyes was a force to be reckoned with, and although she spent the first entire day just yelling at Bellamy, she had suddenly backed off.

Actually, come to think of it, everyone had.

Even Wells, who Bellamy assumed would be absolutely livid over the attempted assassination of his father, hadn’t even approached him about it. And Bellamy doubted Wells hadn’t heard.

Bellamy Blake wasn’t an idiot. He knew that he wasn’t the most liked guy around camp. He was respected, listened to, thought of as a leader – but they didn’t like him. Not really. Clarke and he were finding common ground, sure; and Octavia was his little sister, and therefore, his favourite person – but no one truly liked him, otherwise.

Well, no one except for Murphy.

John Murphy was an asshole and Bellamy knew it. He still wasn’t sure why he was locked up, but everything that he did naturally could have done the job in a heartbeat. Since they landed, Murphy had been a form of apprentice to Bellamy – he’d followed him around, enforced his rules, Bellamy had even heard that he peed on a guy in honour of finishing the wall (which, Bellamy thought, was going a little too far – but he marginally admired the effort).

However, as he sat in his tent, lacing up his boots to start the day, he realised that while he was seemingly in the clear, from fights, Murphy had been getting into more than he could remember.

Bellamy trudged out of his tent – it was still early, but he needed to check around the people on watch, before figuring out how much food he needed to bring back to camp in order to keep everyone alive, and then solving the disputes the delinquents brought up. Clarke handled the med bay, and telling the 100 off for not using their common sense. Everything else was shared between them through discussions, and he knew they would have to have one over the imminent threat of the grounders, later that day, as well as over Charlotte, who had been reported to be stalking around camp in the middle of the night. Bellamy hadn’t taken the knife back from her, but she had forever lost his trust.

As he walked the perimeter of the camp, he heard arguing. The voices weren’t clear at first; distant hisses and swears, and Bellamy treaded lighter, watching the floor for anything that would announce his whereabouts.

“I just want to talk to him,” someone protested. Bellamy couldn’t tell who it was, speaking – he wasn’t accustomed to all of their voices yet.

“Well you can’t,” someone else sneered in response. Even if Bellamy didn’t know everyone’s voice, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it was Murphy.

“You don’t control me, John,” the other told him.

“That’s not my name,” Murphy replied. “And I do when it comes to this.”

“What do you think he’s gonna say when he finds out that you’ve been protecting him?”

“I’m not protecting anyone.” Someone scoffed.

“That’s what  _this_  is,” a female voice said. Bellamy thought it was Clarke. “You’re making him hide behind you, even though Bellamy loves a fight.” His ears perked up and he shuffled closer. The voices were coming from the wall, behind the drop ship, and Bellamy stood by the metal of the death trap as he listened.

“I’m not protecting anyone,” Murphy repeated.

“Then let me discuss this with him,” the unknown voice continued.

“He doesn’t have time for it,” Murphy replied indignantly. “He’s got a camp to run.”

“So have I,” Clarke interjected. “I can cover his slack – stop standing in Well’s way over this.” Bellamy swallowed over the thought of it being Wells.

“I’m not standing in his way,” Murphy said.

“You won’t let me speak to him – I’ve been trying for two days, and every time I do, you’re pushing me away to do something else.”

“It’s been bad timing.” Someone sighed.

“John-“

“Murphy,” he corrected.

“Murphy,” Wells agreed. “I need to talk to him, and you’re not going to stop me like you’ve stopped everyone else.”

“I’ve stopped no one else!” Clarke’s laugh was more bitter than joking.

“You’ve been in ten fights in the past three days,” she told him. “Every time someone wants to yell at Blake, you’ve been right there, fielding the first punch.”

“Shut up, Griffin,” Murphy replied.

“You have two black eyes,” she pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet you’re covered in bruises.” Murphy scoffed.

“Better me than him.”

“What?” Both Clarke and Wells asked immediately, and Bellamy almost felt himself saying the same thing. His fists clenched at the thought of Murphy taking punches for him, but he couldn’t tell why. Murphy was a dick, he knew that much. But he was also loyal and sarcastic, and apparently had been getting into fights in his honour – which was more than anyone else could say.

“Nothing,” Murphy muttered. “Don’t talk to him, Jaha.” Then footsteps started towards Bellamy, and he turned, jogging out of sight around the corner of the drop ship. He watched Murphy stalk through camp, and into a tent, before turning back and heading back around to the other two. They were half way through a conversation when he returned.

“-Don’t get it,” Wells was saying. “Why is he doing that?” Clarke sighed.

“I can’t even pretend to understand him – but you’re covering here for the next hour, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied.

“Good. I’ll make sure I can get Bellamy alone to talk to you later – maybe we can send Murphy out hunting.”

Bellamy continued his walk around the perimeter around the camp, but slower, as he thought over the others’ words. He avoided seeing Wells, only on the principle that he didn’t want to argue about the gun he put to Jaha, but he knew part of him didn’t want Murphy’s effort to be in such vain.

As he organised the hunting troop, Clarke approached him.

“So I was thinking we’d send Murphy out on the hunt,” she started, looking up at him. He nodded.

“Yeah, I was already planning to,” he replied.

“Great – you’re staying, right? So we can talk about the grounders?” Bellamy swallowed, looking over her head to the assembled delinquents, ready for the hunt. Monroe, Miller, Sterling and Murphy were in the clearing, clutching their rifles like he was gripping at his. He shook his head – he knew what she was trying to do.

“No, I’m going too.”

“But, Bellamy, we need to talk about this.” He voice sounded honest, but when he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to stay. If she got a private talk with Murphy, then so did he.

“Sorry, Princess – we can talk later.”

Bellamy led the hunting troop, and they split into two groups after half an hour of walking. Bellamy purposely asked Murphy to come with him, and the two trudged through the woods, watching the trees and the grass for anything to shoot. In the distance, he watched a figure walking through the woods, both he and Murphy stopped when it did, and watched it turn. The figure, obviously a grounder, looked at them for a moment, before continuing on its way.

“They’re creepy as fuck,” Murphy muttered as they continued walking. “I just never know if they’re going to attack or not.”

“They seem peaceful so far,” Bellamy replied quietly, his eyes on the ground. “Unlike you, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bellamy only glanced at the younger boy, finding him glaring a little with his two black eyes. Bellamy shrugged.

“Just noticed you’ve been getting into fights recently, is all.” Murphy shrugged this time, looking away, and Bellamy turned back to the grass.

“I’m always getting into fights.”

“More recently than at the beginning.”

“More people have learned to dislike me.” Bellamy scoffed.

“They always disliked you,” he replied.

“Thanks,” Murphy replied sarcastically. “That’s really inspiring. Like, top ten of your motivational speeches.”

“It wasn’t even a speech.”

“It was shorter than the rest – was over quicker. That made it even better.” Bellamy rolled his eyes, shifting his gun as the brush to his left moved. He stared for a moment, but when no other movements came, he decided to bite the bullet and keep talking.

“I heard you, this morning,” he continued. Murphy didn’t reply. “You were with Wells and Clarke behind the drop ship. How long have you been trying to protect me, exactly?” Bellamy stopped walking, lowering his gun and turning to the younger boy. Murphy at least had the decency to look guilty over what he’d done.

“I’m not protecting you,” he insisted, and it sounded a lot like he had this morning; defeated and trying to avoid the truth.

“But you’ve been getting into the fights that people wanted to have with me?”

“It’s none of your business,” Murphy replied weakly.

“It’s about me,” Bellamy argued. “Of course it’s my business!” Murphy turned for a moment, staring at the trees before looking back to the older of the two. They glared at each other for a moment before Murphy sighed, lowering his gun uselessly.

“You’re running the damn camp,” he replied. “You don’t need to listen to the people who were just coming over to yell and punch you – there’s no reason for it.”

“So you’ve been taking the punches for me?” Murphy sighed, staring at the floor and nodding reluctantly.

“I can take a punch,” was all he replied with. Bellamy froze for a moment, as he decided what to do next. But, really, there was no question about it. He’d liked Murphy from the first day, even if he was a dick. Murphy was loyal, and no matter what he’d said, he had been trying to protect Bellamy. As someone who’d been protecting people his entire life, he respected that.

A small but warm smile spread across Bellamy’s face as he stepped over to the younger boy. Truthfully, he didn’t even know the kid’s age – but they were all adults on the ground, now. And Murphy was one of his favourites.

He took him gently by the chin, tilting up his face until Murphy was forced to look directly at him, two black eyes and a cut down his cheekbone. He had never been the prettiest, Bellamy noted, but right then he didn’t care at all. He surged forward, downward to reach Murphy’s height, and pressed his lips against his. Bellamy kissed Murphy slowly for a moment, checking out the limits – but Murphy wasn’t moving backwards, and after a moment, pushed back into it; pulling at Bellamy’s t-shirt with a single hand.

Bellamy slipped his hand around to Murphy’s neck, holding him in place as their kiss turned deeper and faster; the natural opposition of their relationship melting into their kiss. They were always at odds, Bellamy knew – but Murphy had been protecting him. Bellamy wondered, for a split second, how to protect Murphy back.

They pulled away, and both of the boys stared at one another for a moment.

“What was that for?” Murphy rasped, Bellamy dropping his hand and smoothing out the fabric that Murphy had scrunched in his hand. Bellamy shrugged, glancing at the ground before Murphy again.

“Whatever the hell we want, right?” He asked. “I suppose I just figured out what I wanted.” Considering the look in Murphy’s eyes, and the way his gun clattered to the floor, and Bellamy’s back hitting a tree, his lips overtaken with the younger boy’s once more, it’s needless to say that they didn’t catch anything to bring back to camp.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading. You can always prompt me on my tumblr - bowlingfornerds - and you can hit the kudos button and tell me what you thought in the comments.


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